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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26734897">Ablaze</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbian_icon/pseuds/lesbian_icon'>lesbian_icon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Manburg vs Pogtopia, but uhhhh hunger games version <3 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, they're in love, what am i DOING BRO</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:07:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,235</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26734897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbian_icon/pseuds/lesbian_icon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When George walks onto the train, he knows deep down that he's not coming back. Meeting his fellow tribute from District 5, he think Maia will have a great chance of winning. That is, until he sees the beast that is "Dream". Six foot fucker wearing a mask, and George has to kill him to get home. It would be easier if he wasn't so damn sweet...  Join George, his fellow Tribute Maia, their mentor Techno and their "PR man" Bad, on a journey for George to get the fuck home in one piece. Good luck Georgie. May the odds be ever in your favor.<br/>((shipping their personas, if they're uncomfy I will delete my work immediately, respect ppls boundaries they're humans and we should treat them as such))</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu/Wilbur Soot, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Manburg vs Pogtopia, but uhhhh hunger games version <3 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989592</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>118</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>674</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Reaping</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>FIRST MULTI CHAPTER WOOOOOO!!!! me: i have school my brain: hunger games au go BRRRRRRr. I have a few chapters of this written so if I get comments that are interested I will continue to update.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sapnap won't meet my eyes. His face is downcast; eyebrows pulled into the center of his forehead, lip pulled between his sparkling teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Neither of us took out tesserae this year, Sap. We won't get chosen." Sapnap sighs, running his hands through his hair to mask his irritation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Easy for you to say, Georgie. You'll have aged out of the reaping soon."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Look, even if you get drawn, you know I wouldn't let you in the games." Sapnap snaps his eyes to meet mine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"George, I swear to god, if they pull my name, you better not do a goddamn thing but keep your head down. "</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sap, you can't ask me to do that."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, tough shit, I am asking. Someone has to look out for my sisters." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Shut the fuck up. That should be you, not me. I don't know shit about kids."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ah, but you know shit about making money. Treasonous black market codes sound familiar?" I blush, half in anger, half in embarrassment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I </span>
  <em>
    <span>get </span>
  </em>
  <span>coding, Sap. They're your sisters. You should be the one to stay if anything happens, which nothing will."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Promise if I get my name drawn, you'll stay out of it." I scoff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Not promising that." Sapnap looks about ready to cry from frustration and stress. I decide to back off of the topic, opting to wrap my hands around his shoulders and lean into him. "It'll be okay, Nick. I promise." Sapnap laughs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Using full names, huh? Someone's serious." I roll my eyes, giving him a playful shove before standing up. I offer him a hand up. He smiles and takes it, and we set off to the town square. It's reaping day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The town is near silent on the way into the center. Everyone must have already assembled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We trod over the cracked pavement roads, keeping our heads down as the Peace Keepers drag stragglers out of their hiding places. I only tried hiding from the reaping one year. The scars on my back from the whip taught me not to pull that stunt again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As far as I've heard, which is not much, District 5 isn't the worst in comparison to the others. The poverty rate is still staggering, but the city is old instead of run down. We could use new roads and buildings, but then again, couldn't every district? It's not super strict here, but harsh enough that getting caught with my codes would be an immediate sentence to being an Avox. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The codes are nothing special; fifty bucks will get rid of the tracking on capitol issue technology, enough for more daring criminals to steal and resell the stuff a few of the factories make. It's District Three's job to make the technology, but a few of the factories have suddenly started to open up here, along the edges of the city. I guess the demand eclipsed the supply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A peacekeeper shoots us a glare through his helmet as if demanding that we get to the town square faster. Sapnap looks ready to bare his teeth, but I grasp his hand and pull him forward. The last thing I need today is to take care of Sap after he gets whipped for his attitude </span>
  <em>
    <span>again. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He huffs but goes along without complaint. I can tell he's nervous about the reaping. I mean, who wouldn't be. Nobody from our district makes it far, except Techno, and he was a special kind of psycho. He's always in the crowd during the reaping, wearing that stupid fucking crown and growling at anyone who gets too close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's the first thing we see when we enter the packed town center, his crown glinting in the harsh sunlight. He makes eye contact with me, and his eyes look almost red. He's a pale imitation of the average capital freak, his ears pig-like, and his eyes a burgundy-scarlet color that </span>
  <em>
    <span>can't </span>
  </em>
  <span>be natural. He flashes me a grin, showing his fanged teeth. I suppress a shiver, dragging Sapnap to the check-in line. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A lady in white nods her head at me, and I let my hand slip from Sapnap's. I step forward, giving her my arm and trying not to panic. This feeling of being livestock on their way to be stunned and slaughtered is customary of reaping day. I try not to let my terror show. The lady reaches out a gloved hand, grasping my wrist in her iron grip. The periwinkle glove skewers me with a long tube, taking a bit of my blood for her to press onto a glass tablet. The tablet lets out an affirming beep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Go ahead, 17-year-old boys are in that quadrant." I try not to stumble on my way to my quadrant. I see Sapnap craning his head to look for me, already on the edge of the 16-year-olds section. I try to get as close as the peacekeepers will allow me. He looks at me, and I can see that eye contact helps him calm down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's alright, Sapnap. We'll be fine." He gives me a shaky nod before turning his attention to the hanging screens in front of the justice building. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"War." After the first word from the President, I tune out the video. We've heard this propaganda a million times before. The war that wiped out District 13, the peace that came after, the hunger games that were punishment to the other districts. President Schlatt smiles, his mouth full of shark's teeth before the screen flashes the capital emblem and goes black. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>B, the District 5 representative, steps out onto the stage. He looks distinctly alien, his face coal black and his eyes white orbs. He wears a strange cloak, highlighted with red lines and symbols. B would rather be anywhere but here, shy and soft looking. He steps up to the bowls, leaning his face into the microphone that stands in front of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay, first, the girls." He places a claw-like hand into the glass bowl, fishing around before pulling out a small scrap of paper. "Maia." A girl with a soft bob of black hair steps forward, the crowd of girls parting for her. She walks confidently up to the podium, taking her place beside B. He shakes her hand, and she doesn't flinch at the shadowy quality of his skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I look over at Sapnap, and he's trembling. I want to tell him that it'll be fine again, but I honestly don't know if it will be. B reaches his hand into the boy's bowl, digging around a bit before producing another small slip of paper. "Nick." I freeze. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Train</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>No, this can't be happening. Not Nick, right? His name was only in the bowl a few fucking times. That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I look over at him, and he meets my eyes. He looks scared shitless. I'm frozen; I have no idea what to do. I can hear his sisters sobbing, but it feels a million miles away. He takes a step forward, the crowd parting for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second he starts to approach the stage, I begin to freak out. Before I can even think, I'm running to get him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sapnap! Sap!" He turns around, shocked. The peacekeepers are on me immediately, holding my arms behind my back and trying to drag me back into my place. I snarl and shove them, trying to break free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute, please, I volunteer." Sapnap's eyes fill with tears, and he has a face of complete hysteria. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, George!" It's too late. The peacekeepers let go and grab him instead, while he kicks like I did a few seconds before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My legs are shaking as I walk up to the podium. I can hear Sap cursing and yelling, but I don't turn around. I won't give anyone the pleasure of seeing me look weak, especially not now that I've sacrificed myself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>B coughs, trying to draw attention away from the spectacle Sap is making. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Our male tribute!" He leans into me slightly, and his skin is ice cold. "What's your name?" I grit my teeth, trying to keep my voice steady. No weakness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"George." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"George, huh? Was that your brother?" Techno meets my eyes, flashing me that same condescending grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not by blood, but yes." Sapnap lets out a strangled sob. B clears his throat, placing a hand on my shoulder and Maia's. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ladies and gentlemen, district 5's tributes!" No one cheers. Instead, they tap two fingers against their lips and then to their sides. It's a sign of respect here, and it almost makes me tear up. The peacekeepers shift from foot to foot, unsure of whether they should step in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno pushes through the crowd, a looming figure of judgment. He looks regal; he seems like an asshole. He scales the steps to the podium, nudging B out of the way. He wraps his arm around both Maia and me and presses an exaggerated kiss to Maia's cheek. She pushes him away, and he lets out a false laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We'll have quite the game this year, folks!" He then grasps our wrists and drags us into the justice building, shoving us towards our waiting rooms before disappearing down a long corridor. I narrow my eyes at him, and he only flashes a humorless grin at me. I have no idea what game he's playing, but it sets me on edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I've barely taken a seat in the soft chairs that populate the small room before Sapnap's bursting through the door. He looks livid, but it's clear that underneath the anger is pure terror. I stand, and he tackles me into a hug, sobbing into the junction of my neck and shoulder. I refuse to cry. There will be cameras outside, near the train, and I don't want to mark myself as a target yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>would you do that?" I pull away, meeting his misty eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know why." He gives me a nod before pulling me back close. I sigh, inhaling him for what will be the last time. "Take care of the girls," I whisper. He nods into my neck. I pull him even closer, whispering desperately into his ear. "Behind the third factory, near the slum district, there's a tiny box shoved into one of the vents. It has enough credits to feed you for a few months. Be careful where you spend the money. Ration the food. There are instructions on how to code in the box. You have to replace me. Don't let them starve." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sapnap pulls away, his face a mask of determination. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll take care of them. Promise me you'll try to win." I try to interrupt, but he cuts me off. "No, you may not know how to chuck a spear or shoot a bow, but you're smart. You can figure out </span>
  <em>
    <span>something. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You can win. Just promise me you'll try to win." I swallow my tears back, nodding. He pulls me in one last time as the peacekeepers walk in, pressing a kiss to my cheek. They drag him out of the room before either of us can say goodbye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don't think that anyone will visit me, so I lean back into the seat and try not to cry. I'm gasping for breath when the door opens again, and Sapnap's sister, Sylvie. She's only 11, but she's headstrong and determined, just like Sapnap. Sylvie's eyes are slightly foggy, but she ignores it, so I do, too. She tucks a strand of her red hair behind her ear, coming to sit in a chair next to me. She puts a calloused hand into her pockets and pulls out a small pin, shaped like a tiny newspaper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There's always the option to find things out, Georgie." I give her a puzzled look, but she stares me down. "Don't let them take that from you. If there is something to say, there is someone to listen to." She reaches forward, pinning the tiny newspaper to my shirt. Then, fluid and dance-like as ever, she stands and heads for the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sylvie?" She turns her head back, looking at me. I slide my fingers over the pin on my shirt, feeling the small divets where words are. "I'm not coming home." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I want her to know so that she can take care of Sapnap when I eventually die. I know she's 11, and she shouldn't have to deal with things like the mortality of the guy who provided her food for her whole life, but I need to know someone will keep Sapnap from doing something stupid. She gives me a sad smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No matter what happens, Georgie, even if you win, you're never coming home. Not really. Good luck." With that cryptic sentence, she leaves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sigh, leaning back into the chair as the peacekeepers file into the room. The mayor, a man I don't know very well, trails behind them. He looks shell-shocked and a little miserable. I stand up, shaking his hand firmly, once, as is customary before the tributes leave. B is outside the door when I step out, chatting with Maia. She smiles at whatever he says before they both turn to me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright, guys, let's head for the train. Busy, busy, busy!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that strange declaration, B leads us out onto the train station platform. A group of bizarre floating cameras follows us around, zooming in on both Maia and my tear-free faces. Holding in the desperate sobs bought me a slight advantage; I won't be bawling on camera when the sponsors are watching.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Train Ride</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The train is a glass wreck, covered in vomit green carpets and purple rugs. Techno trails in behind us, immediately sitting in one of the glittery, plush orange chairs. Techno sits in a power stance, flicking a strand of hot pink hair behind one of the disgusting pig ears. They twitch, and I shiver. He grins at me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Maia sits in another one of the chairs, this time a bright blue one. I sit in the nauseating neon yellow one. We form a strange circle, with B mentioning something about menus and walking off into another train car.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What was that, on the stage?" Maia's voice doesn't waver, and so she sounds strategically disinterested. Maia and I never hung out much in school, but I knew that she was icy and collected under pressure and that she never dated any boys. Second of our class and wicked with the stun guns that they make in the factory, she's someone to treat with caution. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Techno flashes us another smirk, his eyes shifting from a reddish-brown to a full-on scarlet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You were going to have a case with those peacekeepers. I saved your asses, made you look like obedient little tributes. Good for sponsors." I bite back a retort, furrowing my brows at him. For a man who acts so animated, his voice is empty and monotonous. Maia beats me to speaking first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You want us to have a fighting chance. Why? District 5 rarely wins." He gives us the most honest look he's ever sported, a grimace, pain swimming behind his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe that should change. Maybe you two have a fighting chance if you play it right." My eyes meet his. They've faded back to their regular brown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How do we keep that fighting chance?" I ask. He sighs, running a hand through his hair again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sponsors. Be likable, demure, or sexy or hot. I don't care. But you have to be someone they can see </span>
  <em>
    <span>winning</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They have to want you to win, or you won't." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Maia nods, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, what's my angle?" I ask. Techno gives me an appraising look, sweeping his eyes up and down me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You already got points as someone compassionate for the volunteer stunt. Play it up. You love this kid, Nick, right? Make them feel what you felt when you volunteered. Make them see you as a charming, smart kid who takes care of the people he loves. Make yourself someone worthy of falling in love with, because face it, you're handsome enough. Make them </span>
  <em>
    <span>obsessed </span>
  </em>
  <span>with you. Then, you can't lose." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What about me," Maia asks, receiving the same look from Techno. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're confident; emotional, strong-willed, cool-headed. Play as the person that everyone should be cautious around. Make them afraid of you. Become the sponsor's best bet. Play sexy if you think you can pull it off. Now, both of you, get out of here and get some rest. We arrive tomorrow. Practice your stage faces. You'll need them." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Maia and I stand, walking through the train cars until we reach a black-haired avox who takes us to our rooms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The room I'm lead to is way bigger than my house, with a towering canopy bed pressed against the wall and a dresser tucked into the corner. The entire wall is glass, which makes me extremely uncomfortable. There's a black marble nightstand beside the mountain of pillows that decorates the bed, and on it is a tiny remote. I press one of the buttons, and the windows tint to near black. At least now I won't be too anxious to sleep because I feel watched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> There's a door that leads to a spacious bathroom, filled with strange scented bottles of soap and light towels that look like they cost a whole year's salary. I strip out of my clothes, taking the pin off and setting it onto the bathroom counter. The water is warmer than I'm used to and softer than the hard water pressure back home. It's just another thing that reminds me I'm not home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I step out in fresh clothes, hair dried, and scrubbed clean. An avox walks in, trying to escort me to dinner, but I hold back until I can pin the small newspaper onto the nightshirt. It's strange, but it makes me feel comforted. Like I didn't just disappear from my home one day. Like I might come back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> When I enter the dining car, everyone is already seated. The table is covered in some sort of holographic cloth and piled high with all kinds of unfamiliar dishes. Maia is picking at a slice of something that resembles a pie, but the center is a bright purple, and it smells of charred beef. Techno gorges himself on a potato dish, where they're buttered and covered in a glittery sauce. B is eating what looks like a regular muffin and drinking some lime-green juice.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I take a seat beside Maia, and an avox starts piling a rice dish filled with tiny orange fruits and flecks of pepper onto my plate. It tastes like the leg of a wild dog. I diligently eat every bite, knowing how important it is to stock up on extra calories. Once I'm in the arena, who knows when I'll be able to eat again? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Another avox, purple-haired with bright pink eyes, sets a glass full of the same lime-green juice B is drinking. I take a tentative sip, only to taste something unbearably sour and spicy. I try not to spit it out. Techno notices my pinched face and chuckles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "It's lime and a hot sauce called Piccaijo. It's not very good." B rolls his eyes at Techno's antics before setting his glass aside and turning to address us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tomorrow, we arrive at the capital. Lots of cameras, loud people, flashing lights. You need to look good before meeting with your stylists and prep team. Try to shower, brush your teeth, take advantage of the nice clothes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Try not to look like pussies," Techno adds helpfully. B shoots him a glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Language," He sighs, clearly familiar with Techno's attitude. "Anyways, your job is to look good, tough, like good bets for the sponsors. That's all. Try and sleep." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I walk back to my room, trying not to think about arriving at the capital the next morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I dream of Sapnap holding my dead body in his arms. He sobs, desperately moving my hair out of my face. I watch the dirt that obscures the bridge of my nose gets washed away by his tears. He looks torn apart, his face a scarlet red, and his voice catching between wails. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"George, George, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Please wake up, Georgie. I'm right here; I'll take care of you, just please wake up. I- I can't do this without you." I start to tear up, the ghost of me, I guess. I watch as a spear runs Sapnap through. He coughs, blood bubbling from his lips before his eyes go misty, and he collapses on my body. Dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I wake up in an icy sweat, tears streaming down my face. Light falls through the curtains in rays, revealing that it's morning. Today we arrive at the capital. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> After a quick shower, I step out into the main bathroom to admire my face. I look as if I've cried. The drawers beneath the counter hold a myriad of products, all shiny bottles with unusual labels. I dab a bit of one under my puffy eyes and watch in shock as the puffiness disappears. My skin is left pale and shiny, with a small smattering of freckles over the bridge of my nose. I cover them with another skin-colored product that resembles the glue we use in the factories. It sinks into my skin, leaving my face smooth and unblemished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> An avox with bright blue hair stands in my room, holding an outfit in his arms. I blush, not quite used to the lack of privacy the capital provides. I slip the soft green shirt over my head and pull on the trousers without incident. Sitting against the bed frame, I tug on my socks and shoes. I wonder what it would take for me to get my hands on these fabrics back home. Probably much more than I make, even including the illegal coding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The avox leans forward, ruffling my hair slightly. I flinch back, confused, and uncomfortable. The avox smiles at me, making a collection of grotesque sounds that barely register as human. Yeah, the tongue cutting thing, who could forget? He blushes at his mistake before bowing and stepping out of the room. I wonder what he was trying to tell me. As he turns, I notice a small collection of crystals attached to his neck, wrapping around it and disappearing into his face. He must be a capital person, but I never knew they could be avoxed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> B is outside of my door, his hand on the avox's shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Skeppy, you have to get away from this room. You know what would happen if someone saw-" I clear my throat, looking confusedly at the scene in front of me. The avox, Skeppy, looks almost pleadingly at B. B meets his eyes, affection tamped behind his facade of neutrality. His eyes flash to mine, and he removes his hand from Skeppy's shoulder, looking like a child caught in a cookie jar. I give both of them a reassuring smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't see anything." Skeppy looks extremely relieved and places his head against B's chest. I silently leave the corridor, heading into the next train car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Techno is sitting regally in a chair, eating a baked potato, and looking like a king on cocaine. He flashes me another pig-like grin, and his eyes turn scarlet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good morning, Georgie. You look good, no sign of tears, that's good." I give him a nod as the severity of my situation punches me in the chest again. I try not to stumble. As I sit across from Techno, I grab a platter of breakfast. Skeppy rushes out of the car behind us, taking my plate and serving me a pile of eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns covered in a gravy sauce that smells like oranges. I grab the plate, barely thinking as I blurt out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks, Skeppy." Everyone in the train car freezes, even B, who just walked through the door. Techno starts to laugh, guffawing at the look of terror on our faces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So you found out, huh? Let me guess; they were embracing outside of your room?" B blushes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stop, Techno. We weren't </span>
  <em>
    <span>embracing</span>
  </em>
  <span>." Techno gives B a scrutinizing look before B averts his eyes. He then turns to me, suddenly serious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But really, don't bring that up at the capital. Nobody but you and I know about the whole... 'skephalo' situation."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How did that even happen?" I ask, suddenly curious. Before anyone can answer, Maia, walks into the car. She takes a seat by me, and Skeppy gets her some food. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> We eat in near silence, the playful energy of this morning completely evaporating. We're almost at the capital. We have no time to be joyful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I try to think about how I'm going to play this, imagining each scenario of me stepping onto the platform. Do I wave, trying to be charming? Do I keep my head down or raise it in defiance? Do I smile, as if this entire thing is beneath me? By the time I've finished, we're nearly at the platform. I'm shaking. Techno looks at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just try and stay calm. Remember what I told you. Try and be charming but shy. Offer a wave or something. Don't look like a sellout, more like a kid that's overwhelmed and fundamentally sweet. Good luck." The train pulls into the station, and Maia and I stand. She looks over at me, inhaling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We've got this," I tell her, trying to ease both of our nerves. She nods, her eyes facing forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I look out at the sea of screaming people, taking a deep breath. The doors ease open. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Here we go. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We've reached the end of the stuff I already had mostly written sksskkskss,,,,,, expect more delay in the next chapters bc yk school and shit...  thank u for ur patience ily all. also if u want a skephalo spin off where we find out how skeppy became an avox... lmk!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first thing I notice is how </span>
  <em>
    <span>loud </span>
  </em>
  <span>everything is. People are shoving at the barrier of peacekeepers, trying to touch Maia and me. They scream my name, some even calling me "Georgie," which makes me want to puke. They don't know me. I feel like a well-prepared chicken set in front of a crowd of starving men.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I remember what Techno told me, and school my face into a shy smile. It's not hard for me to pass off the anger that's making my face scarlet as an embarrassed flush. I duck my head, just slightly, playing up the overwhelmed charmer bit. The crowd goes wild, screaming, and reaching out to touch me. I try not to cringe; instead, I wave as the peacekeepers usher me into a large car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> As soon as the door closes, the soft smile melts off my face. I exhale and lean my head back against the soft car seats. Maia and I make eye contact before bursting out into giggles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>the way they were looking at you?" I nod, still laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's like I was a fuckin'... hooker!" Maia breaks into another fit of giggles. Techno coughs, and neither of us even noticed him getting in the car with us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good job, both of you. George, that shy smile? You played them like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fiddle.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maia, I loved the wink. Sexy and confident is your angle." I hadn't even noticed Maia wink in all of the commotions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I want to congratulate her before I remember where we are. Her being charming means that she's a threat. I look over at her, and I know she's reached the same conclusion as I have.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> We spend the rest of the car ride in intense silence. Techno tries talking to us before giving up entirely and pulling a baked potato out of his pocket to eat. I have no idea what his obsession is with them; it's almost frightening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> A tall complex towers above the car, drenching the three of us in shadow. I guess this is where the tributes are staying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> We're pushed out of the car by a disgruntled peacekeeper and lead into the elevator. I can see another pair of tributes in my peripheral vision, but I only get a glimpse of white before they're gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The fifth floor puts the entire train to shame. It's elegant, beautiful even. There's a large dining table in the center and a room full of plush couches by the large windows that serve as walls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Sitting by the ornate fireplace are two people, a tall guy, and a short girl. They both stand, the girl walking over to Maia and introducing herself. I barely catch her name, Nicki, before she's tugging Maia into an adjacent room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The man approaches me, and I notice that he's quite handsome. He has a very posh look about him, messy hair, and a strange war-themed coat. He smiles at me before introducing himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm Wilbur, your stylist," He reaches out a hand, and I shake it tentatively. "We're just going to go into this room, and then I'll have the prep team, well, prep you!" I nod, letting myself get lead into another room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Inside there are two young boys, both roughhousing around the stylized room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tommy! Tubbo!" Both boys look up at Wilbur, looking chastised before disentangling themselves from their mock fight. Tommy raises his hand in a salute, and Wilbur walks over to smack him over the back of the head. They look intensely un-capital-like, almost as if they were a family. It reminds me of Sapnap and his sisters, and I start to feel a bit more at ease. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" Tommy asks petulantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're supposed to be prepping our tribute." Tommy looks over at George. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Him? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He's so skinny!" Wilbur lands another gentle smack on Tommy, and the other boy, Tubbo, laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright, alright. Stop fuckin' hitting me. Go on then, go somewhere else!" Wilbur sighs, giving me a what-can-you-do look, before leaving the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I sit in the chair Tubbo offers me while he and Tommy peer at my face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're decent looking." Tubbo comments, turning my face too and fro with a thin hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks," I say, dripping with sarcasm. The boys start to laugh, and I join in too. They do remind me of Sapnap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Tommy grins evilly before holding up a strip of paper, covered in a honey-like substance he calls wax. His smile only grows as he presses the strip against my bare leg, massaging it in. I cock my head in confusion, and then he tears it off. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> was that?" I say, crying out in pain. Tommy laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It removes the hair. We're going to have to do your whole body." I raise my eyebrows. Surely they don't mean- "Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you whore." I laugh before Tommy and Tubbo are slamming wax papers all over me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Over the next half hour, the prep team removes all of my body hair. I feel like a kid, clean-shaven and far too soft looking. They grin at their work before attacking my hair and filing my nails, covering them in clear lacquer. Then they walk out to get Wilbur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Wilbur walks in and appraises the work his two minions have done. He gives me an approving nod before sitting in a chair across from me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright, now we have to dress you for the chariot parade. District 5 is mostly electricity and power, right?" I nod. Most of the time, our tributes get covered in wires and blue fabric and sent out to fail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, wires?" Wilbur shakes his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, that's much too tasteless. We're doing live electrical work." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" He grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're going to make you conduct lightning." I freeze before exploding into anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You want to fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>electrocute </span>
  </em>
  <span>me?" Wilbur laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course not, it's perfectly safe. The entire thing will look cool. Let's get you dressed and prepped." I sigh, standing up and shaking my head in disbelief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Wilbur pulls out a basic outfit, grey pants, and a dark blue tunic with silver embroidery. Over the top, he puts a strange chain-mail type tunic, which shines bright white and silvery. My shoes have small platforms in them to make me look taller, and they have navy blue laces. He has the boys come in and flutter around me like a pair of annoying birds, painting my nails blue and covering my eyelids in a soft silver eye pigment. The three of them admire their work before Wilbur hands me a small remote. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"As soon as you get out into the crowds, press this. It'll cause electricity to travel all over the chain-mail, making you look super fucking sick. Good luck out there, George." I nod, trying to swallow my nerves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> When I walk out, Maia is in a similar outfit, except it's a navy blue dress covered by a draping curtain of chain-mail. She looks at me and nods, apparently in approval. I nod back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's do this." She says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Maia and I are lead into a white chariot, drawn by spotted white horses. We stand beside it, watching the other tributes. In the corner of my eye, I see that same flash of white. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It's a boy, very tall, and wearing a white smiley face mask. He's dressed very similar to Techno, all green clothing accented by a gigantic white cape that trails behind him. He looks insane with the veil covering only one eye and a small portion of his freckled face. He flashes me a smile, showing off blinding white teeth and waves. His fingernails are blood red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I know I should look away, especially since he's a career and a District 2 one at that. Instead, I stare into his one showing eye, which seems to be bright emerald green. I register it as a dark, pissy yellow. He winks. I flip him off, and Maia gasps, grabbing my arm and pulling it down. Luckily, no one else but him and Maia saw, and he seems to be laughing his ass off. Still, I shouldn't have made an enemy out of a career. Well, it's over now, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The droning voice of President Schlatt starts, and we get on our chariots. I can hear the crowd screaming as the boy from before comes into view, chanting something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dream, Dream, Dream, Dream!" The crowd screams. Is that his name? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dream</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Soon enough, with a few lackluster cheers for the other tributes, it's our turn. I hold my breath, pressing the button as the horses pull us out into the runway. The crowd takes an audible gasp before breaking out into cheers. I catch a glimpse of myself, blushing and overwhelmed, on the screen. I look </span>
  <em>
    <span>good. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I take another deep breath and start to play the crowd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Maia is tossing winks and blowing kisses while I wave shyly, ducking my head and blushing at the capital people. They eat that shit up. I have people screaming for my acknowledgment, and I toss them waves too. Near the end of the road, I blow a kiss to the crowd. They explode. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> By the time everyone has arrived in a neat circle, it's clear who got the best attention; Maia, me, and Dream. His partner, a tiny girl that looks about 12 and completely insane, looks more like a fairy than a threat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> We circle back, doing the same shit before we end up in the first room where the horses stay. I press the button again, turning off the electricity and throwing the chain-mail shirt into Wilbur's waiting arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The boy, Dream, approaches me before grabbing my arm. I whip around, ready to confront him. He still has that stupid mask on, but from this close, I can see him almost clearly. The smattering of freckles across his face and his lips only contribute to his unfair handsomeness. His eyes are still that pissy yellow that I know should be green. He flashes me a grin. I can't decide if it's congratulatory or condescending. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good job, Georgie." I flush with anger. Who does he think he is, calling me Georgie? That's Sapnap's nickname for me. Faintly, I hear his partner call out for him. She calls him Clay, which I guess is his real name. It's my turn to flash him a sarcastic grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you, Clay. May the odds be ever in your favor." His eyes widen in surprise before I turn and stalk off. I can barely hear him return the sentiment as I enclose myself in the elevator with Maia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What was that all about," she asks. "The flipping off, how you two looked like buddies?" I shake my head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's an ass." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A handsome ass, though." I snap my head to look at her. Does she know that I'm- that I'm gay? I decide it doesn't matter anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, but handsome can't fix douchebaggery." She nods, and we step off into our floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Wilbur and Nikki sit with their respective prep teams, ready to congratulate us on a job well done. Techno sits in the corner, eating yet another potato. Strangely, it's the most normal I've felt in a while. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>wilbur and nikki stylists 0-0 also are tommy and tubbo ooc? idk and idc - im updating so fast, i wrote this chap in like half an hour. i promise it wont be this fast forever sksksksdjjdksksks i just like this fic lmfao</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Training</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After the exciting night with the chariots, we all buckle down to head to bed. My room is too large for me to fall asleep comfortably. There's a small remote that adds background noise for the tributes that live in a full household of strays, like me. More than anything, I wish I was back home with Sapnap. I just want all of this to be a bad dream, but I know it's not. Tomorrow morning will be our first day of training, where we'll see the other tributes face to face. As much as I'd like to deny it, I'm terrified. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I fall into a restless sleep, dreaming of the spear piercing Sapnap again and again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The next morning the avoxes set out combat clothing for me. I shower and dress quickly, nerves making my actions jerky. Today's the day that I meet the competition. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Breakfast is a silent affair, the only breaks being the scrape of my fork against my plate. Techno inhales, adjusting his crown on his mop of pink hair before addressing us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright, what are your strengths? I need to know what we're working with." I nod at Maia to go first, and she does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can work a taser pretty well. I throw a decent punch." Techno nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That'll work. Show of the taser thing during the gamekeeper's evaluation, and show off the combat skill during the training. Make sure the tributes don't see you as soft." He looks at me next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh, I can code? I don't know how to fight, but I can make and arm a bomb, no problem. I'm a fast learner, too." Techno sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bomb arming should be your evaluation skill. Try to learn how to fight. Maybe code a machine or something? Just don't look like an easy target." I give him a shaky nod, and then B walks in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright, time to go to the training center." He pulls both of our arms, bouncing his way to the elevator. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The training center is a large cement room packed with different training rigs. Rope nets are hanging from the ceiling, weapons of every capacity scattered about, people sitting at survival stations to teach fundamental skills, and a tall woman in the center of it all, looking stern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The rest of the tributes file in, and Clay isn't wearing his mask. He doesn't look any softer without it, all sharp masculine angles and piercing eyes. The only remotely gentle thing about him is the freckles that pepper his face, turning him spot-like. His eyes flash to mine, and his face breaks out into a wide grin. I scowl back at him, and he has the fucking audacity to laugh at me. I roll my eyes, looking back at the lady in the center of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm Minx. I'm going to be your main trainer, but I am not your fucking babysitter. Remember, 23 of you are going to die. Make sure the one that's alive is you by learning the skills you need to survive. Some of you will die of thirst, sickness, poison, starvation. Figure out how to not be those idiots that wasted these precious few days. If you fight with another tribute, the peacekeepers will fuck you up. Trust me; you don't want to go into the arena fucked up." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> One of the girls looks close to tears. The careers are already looking at her, and I can see the bloodthirst in their eyes. Psychos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She tells us to go, and I immediately head for the survival stations. Over the first day, I learn how to purify water, set snares for small game, throw a knife into a person's eye, and tell which plants are and aren't poisonous.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Clay follows me from station to station, sitting beside me and trying to crack jokes. I ignore him until lunch breaks, where he attempts to sit beside me, but the peacekeepers pull him away. He flashes me another cocky grin and blows me a kiss. I mime catching it, then stomping it underneath my foot, which does nothing but make him break into his tea-kettle laugh. High and haunting, he sits with the careers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Maia gives me a look that screams, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what the fuck are you doing, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and I sigh before addressing her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't help it; he gets on my nerves. He thinks he's so marvelous and that I should be </span>
  <em>
    <span>grateful </span>
  </em>
  <span>for a career's attention. Well, I'm not thankful. He's been distracting me all day, and also, if you hadn't noticed, he's a fucking douche. Cocky asshole." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Georgie!" He calls, his voice teasing and familiar. I can't deny that hearing it in any other circumstance would make my stomach flood with butterflies, but currently, he's just another obstacle between me and home. I won't let him manipulate me with his </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupidly handsome face </span>
  </em>
  <span>and his </span>
  <em>
    <span>dumb deep, sultry voice. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I debate flipping him the bird before deciding to ignore him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I barely eat the mashed root in front of me because he's driving me </span>
  <em>
    <span>insane</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He tries to get my attention, calling my name or even going so far as to </span>
  <em>
    <span>grab my wrist</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which gets him a warning shove from a disgruntled peacekeeper. The group of career's laugh along with his antics, clearly trying to win Clay over. I almost think he's marking me as a target except that whenever another tribute tries to tease me, he gives them a poisonous glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> If I didn't know any better, I'd the psycho wanted to be my </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I see a stocky career boy from District 1 eyeing me, and I know that Clay's friendship is not worth my life. I can't afford to let him make me a target, and his apparent "charity" has made me a prime victim for angry or jealous would-be-allies. Maia meets my eyes before heading to the fishing section, as far away from me as possible. I'm not upset; I get that she's just trying to save her skin. I don't blame her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I head for a small table covered in blueprints and wires and sit across from a strange mutt-like thing with bright orange fox fur and piercing eyes. He reaches out a long-fingered hand, and I grasp it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fundy. My name's Fundy." He has a strange accent, edging on capital, but not quite as lilting and birdlike. It's nothing like mine, which is all posh edges and missing consonants. His voice is soothing, cat-like. It puts me at ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Over the next half hour, Fundy teaches me all about the landmines they use in the arena. He's impressed by my basic understanding of building bombs and is starting to show me how to deconstruct one when Minx calls for us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright, tributes! Now we have a compulsory exercise, one of the ones all of you do at the same time; ax throws, knife throws, spears, and sword practice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> We form a line, the careers shoving their way to the front ferociously. I can see why they win almost every year; they're machines. The fairylike girl from Clay's district can nail a knife in the dummy's skull with her eyes closed. A lumbering boy from One throws a spear so hard it goes through the dummy's chest and nails it to the wall with a sickening </span>
  <em>
    <span>thunk</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Next up is Clay, tall, lithe, muscular. Ruthless. He flashes me a cocky smile before obliterating six dummies with a sweep of the sword. A trainer stands up to go against him, and he has him pinned and tapping out in a matter of moments. The rest of the careers share conspiratory looks between themselves, and I know that they want him as an ally. Who wouldn't? He's a killing machine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> By the time it gets to me, I'm just trying not to make a gigantic fool out of myself. Gritting my teeth, I pick up one of the knives and chuck it at the dummy. It misses by a mile. I can hear the careers chuckling, intermixed with the tea kettle that is Clay's laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Having trouble, Georgie," he teases, sweeping the dirty blond hair out of his eyes. There's still green nail polish on his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I narrow my eyes at him, deciding to make a cocky move. I know this is going to end badly; the career's gasp at me as I pick up one of the swords. The same trainer that faced against Clay steps up, completely prepared to spar with me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The sword lays heavy in my hand, and I give it an experimental spin. I remember when Sapnap and I used to wrestle, both of us struggling for the upper hand while beating each other with sticks. It can't be much different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The trainer advances, swinging at my side. I slide to the left in surprise, stumbling before gaining my balance. I hear Clay snicker, and it's as if the entire room goes silent. I see the trainer's arms twitch, signaling that he's about to swing at me. I lift my sword, the clang of metal meeting metal resounding through the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> We begin to dance, swords clashing against each other as I slip between his practiced blows. Weaving underneath a powerful stroke, I press my blade against his quivering neck, pressed against his chest. He freezes, sweat dripping from both of our temples. He taps out, and I toss the sword onto a nearby table, stalking back towards Fundy. I can feel the eyes of the career's on me, and I see a flash of Clay's smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Fundy grins cheerfully at me and goes back to disarming the land mine in front of him. I hear heavy footsteps approaching and am wholly unsurprised when Clay sits in the chair beside me. He grabs a wire and starts fiddling with it, tracing down it with his long fingers. I bite my lip, trying not to snap at him. He sets it down and begins to tap against the table. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tap....taptap......tap. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I growl, whirling around to face him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "What in the everloving </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>do you want?" The tapping stops as he meets my eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want you to be my ally." I scoff, turning back to the land mine blueprints. As if. "I'm serious." I side-eye him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I never said you weren't. The answer is no." Clay squints, looking taken aback. I guess he's not used to being told no. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why not? You know I'm good." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why do you even want to be my ally, anyway? It's not like you're hurting for offers." Clay sighs and nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know. That's why I don't want to be allied. Leeches. I hate that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then, why me? Why am I the exception?" He shrugs, leaning slightly into my side to whisper in my ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I guess you just have a certain...</span>
  <em>
    <span>allure </span>
  </em>
  <span>about you, Georgie." I swat him away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't call me that." He grins, standing fluidly before taking the hand of his other district partner and flouncing off to another station. I shake my head, trying to clear. I can feel everyone's eyes on me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, Fundy, how do I make one of these?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Fundy grins, pulling out a new stack of diagrams and a toolbox.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ASKSJJDJJASJSJS IM SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPDATE i hate school,,,,,,,, here it is!!! also hey yall think the other tribute from Clay's district should be drista? 0-0 could be angsty and sick if she were to,,,,,,, ,,,,,  not be the victor. also character death or no????? should there be a sequel or a spinoff???? idfk- uhh thanks for reading! comments and kudos give me life</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>That night, we all sit around the dining table, picking at our food. Techno coughs, drawing my attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, the mentor from district two reached out to me." I squint at him. That's Clay's district. "D'you wanna tell me how you managed to get Clay asking to be your ally?" I scowl, going back to stabbing my food with my fork. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Clay is an asshole."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A strong, talented, skilled one." I roll my eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't want to team with him. He gets on my nerves." Techno's eyes flash red again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you think this is some sort of game, George? The careers will kill you for getting his attention. If you ally with him, at least you'll stand a chance." I glare at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I never asked to be Clay's little pet project."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But you are. Either you make Clay your ally, or you die." I push my chair out, storming from the room. I can feel Techno's eyes trailing me to my quarters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I fall into a fitful sleep. Sapnap pets my hair while I bleed out on the ground; the spear had pierced me this time. I can't speak through the blood I'm coughing up. Dream's face appears above me, his mask cracked, his green eyes now blood red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you doing, Georgie? You have work to do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I wake up with a start, sweat icy against my forehead. Sneaking out of the room is easier than it should be, and the crisp air of the balcony helps me clear my head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Below me, I see blonde hair. Clay is out on his balcony, accompanied by the small tribute from his district. He runs a hand through her hair fondly, ruffling it. There's a familiarity there, the kind I see with Sapnap and his sisters. Could she be Clay's sister? It makes sense, the way they stick together, the way he protects her from the career's glares, their similar features. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I can hear the hum of his voice, low and warm, but I can't tell what he's saying. I cough out of courtesy, letting them know that they have company. Both pairs of apple green eyes meet mine. Clay flashes me a smile, but the younger girl looks up quietly. She turns to look at Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is that your pet project?" I bristle before composing myself. Of course, she'd know that I was his little charity case. Then, Clay laughs, high and reminiscent of a tea kettle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, that's Georgie."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"George." I correct. He grins up at me. I look at the young girl, taking her in for the first time. She looks like her brother, fair-skinned with freckles and the same sour green eyes. "You look like your brother." She cocks her head, looking back over at Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How did you know she was my sister?" I scoff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You could be twins if she was older. It wasn't that large of a leap to make." She grins, shoulder checks Clay, and he rubs it dramatically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You wound me, Drista."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Drista? What sort of name is that?" The girl, Drista, looks up at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The kind that isn't my legal name."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, what is it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nunya." I roll my eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Very funny. I see where Clay gets his witty remarks." She grins at me, and it's the same grin that often splits Clay's face open. She's too much like Sapnap; they both are. Would it be that bad to be their allies? Clay meets my eyes, and I can tell he knows what I'm thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I turn on my heel and walk into my room, shutting the balcony doors behind me. I have so much to consider.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I don't get much sleep that night. Would teaming with them be so horrible? I don't want to abandon Maia, but it's not as if she's been extending me that same courtesy. Ultimately, the weak tie we have to each other from being District 5 will mean nothing in the games. It means near nothing now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The next morning, I've made my decision. I sit in one of the awful plush chairs at the dining table, serving myself a pile of hash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm going to team with Dream." Techno looks up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And his sister." Techno looks slightly surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"His sister? Why?" I shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's going to team with her anyway, plus, she reminds me of Sapnap." Techno shakes his head, exasperated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The kids never make it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, well, if I die, I want her to win." Techno looks ready to argue, but Wilbur holds up a hand to stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's very admirable, Georgie." Techno rolls his eyes, digging into yet another baked potato. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're coming up on the last training days. Soon, you'll be doing the interview. Prepare yourselves for that." Maia and I nod. She clears her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Techno, how did you win your games?" Techno freezes, his eye turning that same shade of scarlet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The great potato war..." He almost sighs it out. "Squidkid and I were the last two alive. The center was this gigantic pillar of a farm. I built minions, robot things, to attack the other tributes. He copied me. We were even, or so he thought. I started stealing supplies from his camp, waking him up in the middle of the night. I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>toying </span>
  </em>
  <span>with him. Eventually, when he was exhausted and starving, he asked me to kill him. He called me a hoarder of food, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>pig. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I stabbed through the chest. He thanked me. I went home." He shakes his head, as if to clear it, and leaves the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Maia and I sit in shock at the table. When I'd watched that Hunger Games live, we'd never heard Squidkid ask for Techno to kill him. Horror twists my stomach. Will I have to do that? Will I have to end someone's misery while they beg for me to kill them? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> When we reach the training room, I head straight for Clay and Drista. They're sitting at a station for three, trying to figure out how to make a simple forcefield. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I sit beside them, and Clay flashes me his signature smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Finally came around, huh, Georgie?" I roll my eyes and smile tentatively back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright, stop flirting. How the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>do we make this?" Both Clay and I turn a soft pink at Drista's insinuation. I reach over Clay, grabbing one of the wires and connecting it. The small forcefield turns white and powers up. Clay looks at me, impressed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That was good." I shrug, blushing an even deeper red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, you're teaming with us?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I am." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What about that girl from your district?" I shrug again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dunno." Drista hums, going back to her forcefield.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> When we break for lunch, Drista drags me to her and Clay's table. We sit, talking, and cracking jokes for the entirety of the break. They're both sweet and complete dorks. Sometimes they even finish each other's sentences. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Over the next few days of training, Dream shows me how to fight, and Drista shows me how to throw a knife. I teach them how to make a simple bomb and code up a robot. Every night, I have the same nightmare. Sometimes Sapnap dies, sometimes it's Drista or Dream. Sometimes it's me, choking on my blood. Rinse and repeat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Clay and I grow closer as the interview date approaches. I find him staring at me or calling me Georgie (which I allow, though I'm not sure why). Sometimes he wraps a long arm around me and whispers that he loves me in my ear. Other times, he laughs and cracks jokes, trying to make me blush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> There's a strange tension building between us, one that everyone notices. Often, I find myself staring at Clay, noting how </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful </span>
  </em>
  <span>he is. He's the kind of boy I'd have a crush on, back in District 5. We're not in District 5, though, and I can't afford to fall for a boy I'll have to kill. I try to keep us strictly friendly, but I still find myself on the balcony almost every night, where we talk about everything. It's the night before the interview when everything changes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He's on the balcony when I step out, staring out at the cityscape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lost in thought, Dreamy?" He looks up, but there's none of that familiar playfulness in his expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you think shit would be different if we weren't here?" I sit down, looking at him from above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I dunno. I think so." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We'd still be friends, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Best friends." I agree. "You, me, and Sapnap. You'd like Sapnap." Dream sighs. "What's up, Dream? Why think about this shit?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just... wonder if we'd be different." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What do you mean?" He looks up at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know what I mean." I do. I see the tension between us, the way his fingers linger on my arm when he holds me, the breathy quality of his I-love-you's. It's my turn to sigh and look up at the polluted sky. You can barely see any stars here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. I think we'd be different. If that's what you wanted."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It would be what I wanted. It's what I want now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We can't." I don't even look down at him because he knows it, too. We can't. Not here, not ever. Only one of us is making it out of the arena. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want it to be you. The victor, I mean."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No." I don't hesitate before saying it. "It has to be you or Drista." He shakes his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Drista isn't going to make it. She's going to throw. I know it." I know it, too. We've both pretended like it wouldn't happen, but Drista is going to sacrifice herself for one of us. It makes me sick. "Can it be us? Just for a bit?" I look down at him, meeting those stunning green eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know." He nods and stands up to head inside. I turn back to the expanse of the skyline. Interviews tomorrow. I don't know what I'm fighting for, anymore. Was I ever fighting for anything? </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>IM SO SORRY. school be like: no free time. uhhhh fuck sophomore year &lt;3 here's another chapter lovelies &lt;3333 &lt;3 love uuuuuuuuuu</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The day of the interview arrives. Techno and I sit in the back room while he goes over keynotes with me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The host, Mr. Beast, will work with you. You still have to give him something to start with, though." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What should my angle be?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Same as before; charismatic kid trying to get home to his brother." Okay, I can do that. "Wilbur and his... </span>
  <em>
    <span>team</span>
  </em>
  <span> will be here soon to prep you. Be charming, don't fuck this up. Good luck." With that final piercing statement, Techno sweeps out of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Wilbur and the boys step in, carrying a plastic bag of clothes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you dressing me in tonight, Wilbur?" He grins at me, tugging out a neon-white glowing crop top and a pair of blue pants that shift color like the ocean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, absolutely not." Tommy grins at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"C'mon big G, give it a go."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No way. I'm going to look like a piece of tinsel."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're doing it, and that's final." I glare at Tommy, and he grins evilly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> By the time I'm in the entire get-up, Tommy and Tubbo finished painting my nails and draping me in elaborate jewelry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How long am I going to have to be in this?" Wilbur laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just for the interview, don't worry. You look great." I sigh. Of course, this is my life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Wilbur leaves with the boys, ruffling their hair affectionately. I can barely hear Tommy calling Wilbur his brother. I know it's not possible Niki and Wilbur are the younger boys' parental figures. I wonder what that's like, in the capital, to be left behind. Their parents must've abandoned them in Wilbur's care. That's common in my district but probably as rare as a days labor here in the capital. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> They group us all up in a small room, sitting to have our names called. District 1 has two unremarkable brutes of tributes, both acing their interviews with cockiness and charisma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Next up, Dream!" Clay stands up, a royal white coat flowing out behind him. I try to catch his eye, but his mask is covering his face again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He steps out onto the stage, and the crowd erupts into screams. Mr. Beast laughs before motioning for them to quiet, and they do. Dream takes confident strides, collapsing nonchalantly into the plush chair that's offered him. Mr. Beast clears his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, Dream, that was an entrance into the chariot ring, huh? What inspired that look?" Clay smiles cockily and looks distinctly not-himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's a great question, Jimmy. Can I call you Jimmy?" Mr. Beast nods with a smile. "I wanted to go for something different. Something that showed what I was capable of and what I came to the games to do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And what </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>you come here to do, Dream." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> In a fluid motion, Dream stands up and takes his mask off. He throws it into the crowd, who subsequently goes insane, trying to grab it. He looks straight into the camera, the perfect form of cocky charisma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I certainly didn't come to lose." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> With that final statement, he gracefully leaves the stage. I sit, shocked. That wasn't him, wasn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>Clay. Something must've happened. Maybe this whole thing between us was a ploy to get my guard down. Even if it was, he's already succeeded. I want him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The next few tributes pass in a blur. Most give generic answers or stay completely silent. Drista sits on the chair and glares at the audience for her 5 minutes. She's successfully intimidating, so much so that eventually Jimmy stops asking her questions. She, too, leaves off the stage with a scathing statement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have a message for the rest of the tributes. You're all fucked." She steps off the stage and sits next to Clay, who still won't look at me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> By the time it's my turn, I'm shaking. I barely hear my name, and I walk onto the stage stiffly. The seat is softer than the one's on the train. I'm warm, the overhead lights burning my skin. I look over at Jimmy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, George, I remember hearing about your volunteering. It's a very admirable thing; what you did there. Why did you do it?" I sigh, composing myself. None of these people deserve to know about Sapnap, but I need them, so I share.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was for my brother, Sapnap. He's got a few sisters, so he needed to stay back and take care of them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Brother?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Best friend, I mean. We're brothers, just not by blood." Jimmy nods in understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, what's your plan for the arena?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do whatever it takes to get home to my brother."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sure you will. Any specific strategies?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm going to be a shadow, never able to find."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You heard it here, George Not Found is someone to be cautious around. May the odds be ever in your favor. Everyone, give a hand for George Not Found, from district 5." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The crowd erupts into cheers, and I look out on the sea of people. They scream the title Mr. Beast gave me. All around, I hear shouts and chants of "George Not Found! George Not Found!" I rip a page out of Clay's book, flashing them a grin and wave before leaving the stage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The rest of the tributes pass without note. Clay stands first, outstretching a hand to help me up. I remember him ignoring me earlier and push his hand away. His eyes widen in surprise as I step past him. Whatever we had, it ended the second he said he was going to win. We're enemies. I can't forget that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> That night, on the balcony, I hear him call out my name. I try to ignore it, but eventually, I end up looking down at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"George, I'm sorry about tonight."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, you were right; we're just two tributes. We can't be anything more." Clay huffs in frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want to be more, I just- I wasn't thinking!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hope you figure that out soon. Goodnight, Dream." He growls in anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Goodnight, GeorgeNotFound." The insult is weak, but it's the coldness behind his delivery that leaves me reeling. I storm inside, slamming shut the doors of the balcony behind me. Tomorrow, we head into the games. I can't afford distractions. I can't afford for both of us to love each other. I'll have to kill him, or he'll have to kill me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> That night I dream of stabbing Dream in the chest, again and again, telling him we were nothing in the first place. I wake up a few times but try to head back to sleep. I'll need it for tomorrow. I think of Sapnap, the way he'd bring me weeds and think they were flowers. I think of his sisters, who are way too young to see me die on live television. I think of Dream, and what could have been if we didn't live here; if the Hunger Games never existed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I fall into a restless sleep, one thing on my mind. May the odds be ever in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clay's </span>
  </em>
  <span>favor. I don't need to live if he survives. Hopefully, despite what I assume to be the end of our allyship, he'll provide for Sapnap. That's all I can think of, whether or not I'll be able to provide for them, my family, once I'm dead. The whole thing is out of my hands. All I can do is hope that I die off-screen or that I don't die at all. Neither seems likely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I hear Techno crack open the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sleep well, GeorgeNotFound. Sleep well, and remember this; you're the one in charge. If you wanted to burn the arena, all you'd need is a match." I fall asleep to the sound of Techno's voice, his words looping again and again in my head. Burn the arena? Well, it's certainly an option. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ugh ik, short chapter.... srry :') lucky news! next chapter is when the games begin !!!!! i have a basic outline of the story but tbh idk where it's gonna end up until it takes me there.... luv u all &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Day One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next morning, I wake up feeling like I didn't sleep a wink. Today's the day. I wonder what sort of arena it'll be. Will it be a forest, like last year? It's not likely to be a desert; those never lead to compelling deaths. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Maia and I gorge ourselves during breakfast, eager to get in that last batch of calories. Techno stays silent, giving both of us strangely wistful looks. Wilbur and Niki hold hands, pretending like they're not staring. Skeppy gets me a glass of water and brushes his hand along my shoulder blades. Everyone is treating us as if we've already died. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Wilbur and the boys are dressing me today. The outfit is thick cargo-ish pants, paired with a thick shirt and light windbreaker. I lace the boots on myself, watching the boys watch me. Warm clothes. Are they putting us in a tundra? No, they can't be, they did that one year, and almost everyone froze to death. That doesn't produce good entertainment. The boots could mean climbing. Maybe it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>a forest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"George?" I look up and see Tubbo looking straight at me. He gives me the newspaper pin, the one that Sapnap's sister gave me all those days ago. It feels like life has ended. He digs a hand into his pocket and pulls out a second pin, a bee. I pin both onto my shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Tommy shifts from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. Wilbur puts a steadying hand on his shoulder, and Tommy visibly calms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good luck, Big G." Tubbo nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can win!" I try to give them a reassuring smile, but I'm sure it looks like a grimace. With Wilbur giving me a final clap on the shoulder, the boys leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Peacekeepers march in and escort me down a narrow hallway. In a matter of seconds, I'm going to be in the tube, headed into the arena. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> They push me into the tube, but I don't resist. My mind is in the arena. Do I run into the cornucopia and try to grab supplies? Do I turn tail and run out of there? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I'm still not sure what to do by the time the platform starts rising. The slow </span>
  <em>
    <span>hum </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the tube only serves to heighten my anxiety. My head breaches the cylinder, and the light falls on my face. The first thing I notice is the gigantic mountain in the center. The next is the fact that there are no trees. The entire arena is a ruined city, with a peak in the very center. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The hull of the cornucopia buried into the side of it, with only the mouth showing. It's piled high with enticing treasures: backpacks filled with supplies, an array of wicked-looking knives, a bow and quiver, even assorted tools for making a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bomb</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I have my eye on a coil of wire when I see Clay. He's standing, a picture of focus. He looks up at me and shakes his head. I fight the urge to roll my eyes as the countdown begins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1!" I explode into movement, running straight for the prize. I'm faster than most of the boys in my district, this fact that I attribute to my lean build and the stockiness that comes from working in the factories. I have the lumbering boy from 3 far outpaced, and as compensation, I get my hands on a bright green backpack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I've barely turned when I see a spear whizzing past my ear. I feel it slice the pointed tip of my ear off, right as I duck. I whirl around just in time to see the spear lodged itself in another girl's chest. She falls to the ground, gagging on her blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I spot Maia fighting and kicking another boy for a backpack. I don't even think before I'm racing over, kicking the other boy off of her. She struggles to her feet, holding up a knife as if to attack me. I see her realize who it is, and she turns tail before sprinting off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I get back to my feet and start running in the other direction. I see Clay grab a sword and run a tribute through with it. His sister throws a knife into another young boy's eye. They both stand, back to back, circling as they kill whoever approaches them. A few tributes manage to escape their wrath, running off wounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I keep running, and Clay grabs Drista and starts to follow me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I pick up the pace, my legs burning, my mind screaming to </span>
  <em>
    <span>turn and fight, </span>
  </em>
  <span>to accept my fate. I race into one of the buildings, shrugging my backpack over my shoulders and beginning to climb. There's protruding rebar in the concrete walls, and I use it as foot and handholds while I scale the side of the building. I nearly impale myself a handful of times, but eventually, I'm on the roof.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It doesn't have to be like this!" Clay calls, his eyes steely and secretive. I shake my head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Leave me the fuck alone!" He sighs, tugging on Drista's hand, and they disappear into the sea of ruins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The cacophony of canons begins. </span>
  <em>
    <span>1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...silence. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nine tributes are dead. Fifteen of us remain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I unzip the bag, looking through its meager contents. There's a few packages of dried fruit, a knife with a serrated edge on one side and a smooth sharp edge on the other, a sleeping bag, an empty water bottle, and a tarp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I need a coil of wire or a shovel. Maybe if I got my hands on the mines, the ones that prevent the tributes from stepping off early, I could rig a trap. First, I need to think about water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I climb up to the highest point of the roof, surveying the ruins. There's no pools or lakes, except for shallow pools left on the ceiling from previous rain. That water is fresh. I pull the water bottle and maneuver myself onto a nearby building to collect water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I eat a small portion of a bag of dried fruit and drink several bottlefuls of water. As far as first days go, I could be doing worse. I see the small blink of a camera near me, and I face it, flashing it a dazzling smile. Even now, when I'm out of the capital, I still have to cater to them. I descend the side of the building, setting up camp in one of the many small rooms there. Curled up in my sleeping bag, I think of Clay. I think of his precision, the agile way he killed 3 of those tributes. He's a force to be reckoned. I need to hope that another career takes him out, but somehow, I can't. Even after all of this, I still </span>
  <em>
    <span>want. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> I hear the faint hum of the anthem and watch as faces flash onto the screen. I only recognize one, a tall boy from district five that I exchanged a phrase or two with; Ranboo. We barely met, and now he's dead. He's headed home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I drift off to sleep, dreaming of Clay killing me. He smiles at me and presses a soft kiss to my lips before he runs me through with his sword. I lean up into it, every time, even though I know he's about to kill me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I wake to the sound of Maia's screams. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AHHHHHH UPDATE I KNOW here u go uwu hope u like the arena i came up with... theres going to be lots of surprises in it ((perhaps even... patches?))) also sorry for the cliffhanger on this chapter but ahaha t e n s i o n do i know what's gonna happen in this story? no! not really! im figuring it out w you!!! also first kiss but drama bc its a dream..... also its dream- dream dream kisses george 0-0 say that five times fast..... n e ways love yall uwu</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Maia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> I race to the exposed side of the building before I can even realize what I'm doing. I have the foresight to pause before I stick my head out and give away my location, but that's it. Maia is on the ground below, a knife to her throat. She looks up, and I can tell that she sees me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"George!" She screams out, asking for me to help. I freeze. The other girl, the one holding the knife to Maia, looks around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>are you calling?" She presses the blade into Maia's neck, drawing blood. Maia lets out a sob.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"George, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please." </span>
  </em>
  <span>I don't know what to do. I'm not even sure if I could overpower the other girl. I'm not sure if I want to. I'm terrified. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stop calling for anyone. No one's coming to help you." Maia tries to push the girl off, but it only makes her angrier. Maia lets out an animal-like whimper as the knife shreds her skin. She's too far gone now. There's nothing I could do to save her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck you, George. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!" I hear the pain behind her voice. It makes me cringe away from the hole in the wall, back into the corner. I hear the phrase repeat in my head, even when I know Maia is long dead and her attacker has left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The cannon cuts through my thoughts. Maia's gone. The only person from home, and she's gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I pack my things in a haze. If the girl is traveling with anyone, they'd know that I'm in the area. I can't stay. I eat breakfast, trying to ration my meager supplies. Do I go looking for other tributes? Do I hunt or try to see what animals live here? Do I try and find Dream and Drista? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I settle on scoping out the area, trying to find where the other tributes are. Within the first few minutes, I find the camp of the girl that killed Maia. I almost want to try and attack her, but she's sharpening a pack of knives, and I don't know if I could beat her. Maybe, if she were to leave, I could pillage her campsite. How do I get her to move, though? It's just then that a stocky boy stumbles on her camp. She springs into action, and I burrow further into my hiding spot. They both tumble for a bit before the boy grabs her token and sprints off. She screams and goes in pursuit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I seize my chance and pillage her camp, gaining a few more bags of jerky and a wicked array of knives. She has a matchbox sitting near her makeshift fire pit, and I pocket that, too. I'm still shell shocked from Maia's sudden death this morning, but all in all, this day has been good. One less tribute, right? I almost puke from the thought. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maia. </span>
  </em>
  <span>We didn't even know each other back in our district, but she was from </span>
  <em>
    <span>home. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And here I am, celebrating her death. I'm sickened by myself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I end up trekking quite a ways before setting up camp in another building, where I see the first bit of wildlife. They're gigantic lizards, about a foot and a half long, that scurry around the buildings. I'll have to set up a trap to catch one, but not now. Now, I prepare the funeral for Maia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Her body is long gone, scooped up by a capital chopper, so I won't be able to bury her. I can still do something, though. There are no flowers here, so I can't make a bouquet as an offering. Instead, I make a small fire and burn a handful of dried fruit. I know that it's stupid and that I need all of the food I can get, but it makes me feel better. A peace offering. Something to compensate for my moment of cowardice, the one that cost her life. The smell of burning oranges permeates the air. I look at one of the cameras, staring into it's blinking lense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"For Maia. I'm sorry. Rest well."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I shrug into my sleeping bag and try to catch a few hours of sleep. I'm mostly unsuccessful, as the blaring of the anthem wakes me up a mere half-hour into my rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The rest of the night, I'm plagued by nightmares, seeing Maia die again and again. I wake up a few times and check my perimeter before trying to get back to sleep. I wonder where Clay is, if he's safe, what he's doing. It's pointless, I know. I still </span>
  <em>
    <span>want. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can't win if I'm falling for him, and I can't seem to stop falling for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I wake up bright and early, and I'm determined. Today I'm going to find Clay, and I'm going to kill him. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sorry for the short chapter T-T</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Drista</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I'm up and on the move in a matter of minutes. Where would Clay and Drista camp? Somewhere with a good vantage point, most likely. That means they could be in any one of these crumbling buildings. Knowing Clay, though, he'd want to keep an eye on the careers. That means he set up near the center, and there's only a handful of buildings tall enough to be the vantage point he'd need. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It's a two-hour trek back into the center, but I make it without complaint. Dream needs to die </span>
  <em>
    <span>today. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I won't survive the games if he's alive long enough for me to fall irrevocably in love with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I stop a few times for water, but I make a good time there. I can almost immediately see where he and Drista are camping. The ruin is tall, with only one entrance and one exit. I'll have to go from the top and see if I can squeeze through a window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The climb is unforgiving. I'm already tired of my lack of sleep, and the ascent doesn't help. I nearly slip and bite my tongue to stifle the curse that bubbles up. The last thing I want is to alert Clay of my position. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>must </span>
  </em>
  <span>know that I'm coming to kill him; he isn't stupid. Or maybe he thinks that I'm too far gone, that I'm not strong enough to ignore my budding feelings and end him. He underestimates me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The top of the structure gives a great view of the center mountain, and I can hear him and Drista whispering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do we look for him today?" Clay's morning voice is smoky and low, and my stomach flutters without my permission. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enough, George. Pull it together. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"He'll show up," Drista assures. Clay scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, he won't. He hates me." I hear them shuffling and standing up. They're getting ready to head out. I need to distract Drista so that I can get to Clay. I stand no chance against him, much less the two of them. I hear Drista huff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Clay." He makes an inquisitory sound. "We have company, on the roof. I'm going to get food. Deal with your boy." </span>
  <em>
    <span>What? How the fuck-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"George," he calls. I debate, not answering. Drista leaves the shelter and walks off into a nearby building. I'm not stupid enough to assume she isn't still watching, waiting to see if she needs to step in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I sigh and start climbing back down. Clay meets me on the ground, and we face each other. He looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>good. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His hair is messy, and his eyes are glittering. He seems in his element. It's fucking horrifying and dangerously attractive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"George," He nearly whispers it, but the grit of his voice still tickles my ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Clay." I sigh it out. He's here, and I'm going to try and kill him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you doing here?" I look away for a second, trying to gather my thoughts before my eyes meet his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think you know." It's his turn to sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Does it have to be like this?" I pull out a knife. He unsheaths his sword. Then, Drista screams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Clay!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> We both whip around to see her stumbling out of the building, being chased by the Career pack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh shit." Clay starts advancing on them, pulling Drista behind him. There are five Careers and two of them. It doesn't matter how good they are; they won't make it. I could walk away, and the careers probably wouldn't chase me. My feet stay rooted to the spot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I step up behind Clay, and he looks at me before nodding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Get the fuck out of here." Clay's voice is hard and dangerous. Several of the careers cringe, but the leader stands strong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No. I'll tell you what we </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to do. We're going to kill your little boy toy and feed him to you while my friend here cuts your sister up." Dream growls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're going to get the fuck out of here, and maybe I'll leave some of you alive." It's silent for a few seconds, and then everyone explodes into action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Drista throws a knife, nailing it into a career's eye. The girl she struck stumbles back before scampering off. The leader screams for her to come back before cutting his losses and swinging at Dream. The clash of steel resounds through the small clearing. I pull out a knife, watching the other three careers. One of them pulls out a short sword, and I throw my knife at him. It hits him in the stomach, and he stumbles towards me, outstretched. I lunge forward, grasping the knife and twisting it before I pull it out. His guts spill out of the tear in his stomach, and he lets out a whimper of shock before collapsing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The canon doesn't sound. Clay and the leader of the careers are still fighting, whirling around each other. I'm suddenly on the ground, pinned by another tribute. My moment of distraction may cost me my life. I struggle, kicking up and trying to unseat the large girl on top of me. She grins, reaching behind her to pull out a quiver of arrows. She tugs one out and positions it above my eye, slowly pushing it towards my face. She's going to impale me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I try to push her off and free my arms, but she has me well and pinned. I roll up a wad of spit in my mouth and spit in her face. She cringes back, and I free a hand, punching her in the nose. She stumbles off of me, and I get on top of her, pulling the arrow from her hand. I stab it through the meat of her throat again and again until she falls silent and the canon fires. My hands dripped with her blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I stand up, facing the last tribute, but he isn't looking at me. He's looking at Drista. I see the spear fly before I can shout a warning. This time, it's not a nightmare. It's utterly and terrifyingly real. The spear doesn't bury itself in me, or Dream, or Sapnap. No, it buries itself in Drista's chest, and she falls backward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dream whips around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Drista!" His shout is pained. Her eyes fill with tears, and her mouth drops open in surprise. I race over to her. The career leader delights in Clay's distraction, slicing him up the leg. He screams, turning back to the career and slashing his neck open, and the canon fires immediately. He turns to the tribute that impaled Drista, looking like the devil as he starts toward him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The career turns tail and sprints away, and Clay goes after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Clay! Get the fuck over here! Leave him!" I barely realize I'm shouting as Clay turns around. He gasps, the realization of the situation settling in, and runs over to us. He kneels beside Drista's head, petting her hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay. It's okay; we've just got to wrap it." Drista coughs out blood and cracks a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not stupid, Clay. I'm dead." Dream's eyes fill with tears, and he chokes out a sob. I'm frozen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, no, it can't be. Please, please just hold on." I put a hand on Dream's shoulder, and he looks over at me, pleading me to do something. I shake my head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He leans his head against my shoulder, petting Drista's face. I hold her hand, and she squeezes it weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"One of you has to win, okay? You can- you can do it. I-" My eyes fill with tears. She was supposed to live. She was supposed to win.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please, Terra. Please hold on." </span>
  <em>
    <span>Terra. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her name. She shakes her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Clay. I love you. I love you guys." Clay covers his mouth with a hand, sobbing. I wipe my tears with my free hand and squeeze hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We love you, too. We'll love you forever." She nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dried fruit? Like with- like with Maia?" I wonder how she knew about that. I guess they've been keeping tabs on me. I nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What fruit would you like?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want..." she trails off. The cannon fires and Clay lets out a whimper. She's gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Terra? Terra! Terra, please!" I tug him away from the body. He wrenches himself from my grip, whirling on the bleeding tribute I left on the ground. He pulls his sword and slashes his throat. I choke back a sob, leaning over to shut Terra's eyes. She looks like she could be sleeping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I start on the fire while Clay sits silently, holding her hand. The fire crackles, and I pull out a bag of dried fruit. I burn the apple pieces, making the clearing smell of the apple pies I could never afford. After a while, we both stand up and head back to Clay's camp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The chopper comes in to collect the bodies, and soon, it's as if they were never there. Clay stands, grabbing a backpack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Where are you going?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm going to find him, and when I find him, I'm going to make him wish he died." He's limping from the sword wound. I stand, grasping his wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No. Not today." He looks back at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That," I motion to the gash in his leg, "could be infected. Sit down. Once it heals, we can hunt him down." Clay shakes his head, heading for the exit. I pull him back, and he whirls around, pinning me to the wall. His face is inches from mine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Clay, stop. Going out isn't what Terra would have wanted." He freezes, and his eyes fill with tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Clay grasps my shoulder, leaning his head into the junction between my shoulder and neck, and cries. He sobs against me, and I hold him, rubbing his back and running my hands through his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know, I know. It's okay, I've got you. I've got you." He whimpers, curling his fingers into my hair. He pulls back, covered in tears and snot, and kisses me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It's an awful kiss. We're both too desperate for it, and Clay tastes like tears. I arch into it before pulling away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not now." He nods, tearing up again, and I slide to the floor, holding him. He curls against me, whimpering into my chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> We fall asleep against each other, the anthem displaying Terra's face. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>First, thank you guys so much for your support. It means the world to me that you enjoy my writing, and that you want me to keep going. I'll try to make you proud. Second, AHHHH IM SORRY I HAD TO KILL SOMEONE did i cry writing this? yes!!!! i hope its sad enough to make yall cry too T-T also do u like her name- terra? like... earth? clay? terra? ik im terrible sksksksksjsjsksjsjjsdjkkdk</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next morning, we wake up entangled. Clay nuzzles farther into my chest, breathing shallowly. He lets out a whimper of Terra's name, and I shake him awake. He blinks, looking up at me. His eyes look heavy with grief. Eleven tributes left, I think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are we doing today?" I sit up, turning to look at Clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're going to eat, and I'm going to check out that gash. It's probably infected, and if it is, I'll need to go to the cornucopia." His eyes widen in shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, you can't." I roll my eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can, and I will. I'm not letting you die. It's not up for discussion." He grits his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I take a look at his leg and cringe back almost immediately. The skin around it is hot and red, and the cut is leaking clear fluid. It's infected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shit." Clay looks down, sees the cut, and immediately gags. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Motherfucker. That's infected, huh?" I nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll need to scope out the cornucopia, see if there's any medicine in there."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The careers will kill you." I shake my head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not like I have a choice. It's either I go there, maybe find medicine, or watch you die."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We could get sponsored, right? It's only two days in. The prices should still be low." I scoff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"For the type of medicine you need? That'd be over a thousand credits on day </span>
  <em>
    <span>one. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There's no way. No, I need to go." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Clay reaches out, grabbing my wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't let you." I yank my wrist from his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't have a choice." He rolls us, sitting on top of me, pinning me to the cracking concrete. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not letting you." I push up, unseating him, and flip us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>You don't have a fucking choice.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" He growls, struggling against my grip, but the infection has left him weak. He can't throw me off. His eyes fill with tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"George. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please </span>
  </em>
  <span>don't go." I reach up a hand, gently rubbing away his tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have to. You know that." He looks away, turning his face, refusing to meet my eyes. I lean in, pressing my face against the curve of his neck. "I'll be back before you know it," I sigh out. He scoffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Will you?" I nod against his throat, pressing a soft kiss there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I will." He sighs, relaxing into my hold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't stop you." I nod again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can't." He shrugs me off, looking into my eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Be </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can't lose you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I will be. You have to stay hidden, though. Don't let anyone get you one on one." It's his turn to nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He leans up, pressing a kiss against my lips. It's softer, filled with worry. It tells me that he needs me to come back. I will. There's not a force that could keep me away from him, now. He pulls back, looking at me. He reaches a hand up, cupping my cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It settles over me like a warm blanket. We've both been so stupid, fighting when there was no reason to. The truth is, we've been like this from the start. Clay's always been </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine; </span>
  </em>
  <span>I was just too scared to admit it. I'm not frightened anymore. He'll win; I'll make sure of it. I have no issue dying for the man I love, and I do love him. I didn't realize it, but I do. The curve of his jaw, the softness of his neck, the grit of his words in the morning, the graceful way he fights (like he's dancing), the soft touches and lingering kisses, all of it. I love him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you too. I'll be back." He nods, and we disentangle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I pack a bag, making sure to take less food than I need. I want Clay to have extra if I- if I die. He notices and tries to hand me another bag of dried fruit. I press it back into his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The trek into the center will take me at least an hour. As I walk, I try to remember all of the buildings. I'm a bit familiar with the way back, but I want to make sure I know the terrain better than any potential pursuers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The cornucopia is unchanged, still full and overflowing. There's two career guards outside, the leader and the girl who ran off. I won't be able to take both of them, which means I need to distract them. There's barely anything to start a fire, but there's a nearby wooden building. Maybe if I lit it on fire? Would they come running? There's only one way to find out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I take my box of matches and strike them, my hands shaking. The fire touches my hands, sending a sharp pain through them. Burns starts to form on the palms. It takes me a few tries and some coaxing, but eventually, I've started the fire. It roars up the side of the building, sending tall plumes of smoke into the air. The careers will either try to see if someone's there or try to put it out because it discloses their location. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I hear one of them curse, the tall boy, and I rush into another building. They pass me, cussing and trying to find water to douse the fire. I sneak by them, approaching the cornucopia. I have a bit of time before they declare it a lost cause, so I search the piles quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> There are a few first aid kits, which I shove into a backpack. I can't check the contents until I've left, so I grab as many different ones as I can. I decided to take some food before I turn tail and sprint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I hear the girl notice me, calling to her partner, and I know they've seen me. They race after me. I can overhear the heavy footfalls of the pair behind me, and I weave through the buildings. I can't lead them back to our camp because they'd just kill Clay. Ducking into a nearby structure, I try to figure out what to do. Do I try to kill one of them? I took a handful of Terra's knives, but I'm not nearly as good of a shot as she was. They enter the building behind me, and I start to climb to the top. If I just had a bomb, I could collapse the building on them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Now, I'm at the top of the building, they're racing up behind me, and I'm completely stuck. If I don't get this medicine back to Clay, he'll die. I'm trapped up here, and they're going to catch up to me. Do I try to jump to another building and pray I make it far enough? Do I try to collapse the building? Do I try to face them head-on? Do I give up and pray Clay makes it through the infection? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Why am I participating in this shit? Why don't I burn this whole fucking arena to the ground? Why don't I kill these fuckers here and blow up the walls that encase us? I don't have a bomb. I don't have a match to burn the arena. I don't have a choice. The capital has taken everything from me, and I'm going to die, right here, in front of my family and everyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I stare up at the sky. I'm not going to let the capital have Clay. I'm not going to let them ruin my first fucking love. If I have to burn it all to the ground to make it out of here, I'll do it with a goddamn smile. I remember what Techno told me, and I know what I have to do. I turn and pull out a knife. They can't have my fucking life. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>we are nearing the end, compadres!!!! this shit is gonna get CRAZY... but, unfortunately, updates might not come for a few weeks  i love u guys, like, deadass yall help keep me going and ik this isnt that good but i am t r y i n g &lt;3 - les</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Ashes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> The girl comes up first with a bandage wrapped around her face, covering the bleeding eye. I grit my teeth. It's now or never. She pulls out a mace, whipping it from side to side. I throw a knife, nailing her in the shoulder. She stumbles back, cussing, before throwing the mace forward. I duck, rolling to the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I'm at the edge of the building, lurching and watching the ground. The tribute advances behind me, and I throw myself backward. I hit the stranger's legs, reaching up and tugging the knife down. It tears through the meat of her shoulder, getting stuck in the bone socket of her shoulder and arm. Kicking under, I throw her over my shoulders and off the edge of the building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She reaches out, trying to grasp a piece of rebar. It lodges in her palm, sticking her to the side of the structure. A kick to the face dislodges her, and she falls to the ground. A canon goes off. One more, then back to Clay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I whirl around, facing the boy. He holds his sword like it's an extension of his arm, whipping it in neat circles with his wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's your name?" His eyes widen in shock before he schools his face back into nonchalance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Does it matter?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I guess not. District one, right?" He glares at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. Why?" I shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You could let me go, you know. You could let me leave."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I could. I'm not going to."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's your name?" He growls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stop asking me that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What is it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stop asking! I'm still going to kill you- I- I have to." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't." His sword lowers before he remembers where he is and lifts it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, I'm going to." I grin at him, letting a little of Dream's scary intimidation seep into my smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, you're not." He winces but holds steady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am." I toss a knife at him, and he sidesteps it. Before he sees it, I throw a second one, nailing him in the leg. He caused Dream's infection. I'm not letting him leave alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He stumbles from the pain, and I take that moment to step into him, twisting his wrist and punching him in the throat. The sword drops with a clatter, and I hook my foot underneath it, kicking it up to grab it with my free hand. I press the blade against his neck and watch him pant in shock and fear. He struggles, but I push it into the skin of his throat until bubbles of blood appear, and he stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, do it." He's trying to be defiant, but I can see through the feigned nonchalance. He's terrified. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm going to ask you one more time. What is your name?" He swallows, and I can feel the vibration of it through the blade.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A6D." I hum noncommittally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, A6D, I've just got one thing to say. Don't touch what's mine." With that final statement, I slash his throat and throw him off the edge of the building. The cannon fires as I turn around, ready to head back to Dream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> After Clay heals up, I know what I have to do. I have to burn the arena to the ground, or, in this case, blow it up. The mines will be re-armed, something I learned from Fundy, which means I can rig them at the arena wall. Hopefully, the blast will be strong enough to collapse it. The games aren't in the capital. Instead, they take place near the ruins of District 13. Maybe, if we're lucky, we can get to the ruins and be declared dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The trek back to our camp is unforgiving, and my legs are burning by the time I make it there. I hear Clay scream my name, and I call back before climbing up into our makeshift house. He tugs me into a kiss, pressing all of his relief against my lips. I grab his hair, pulling him closer until we're practically in each other's laps. He pulls away, sighing, and watches me unzip the bag. His eyes widen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Holy shit, Georgie." I nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Both of the careers are dead." He looks up at me in shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You killed-?" I shake my head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, I left the one who killed Terra for you." He nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you." I shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't mention it. Now, let me see that cut." It's gotten considerably worse since I was gone. It's leaking white pus and gives off a burning fever from even an inch away. I have him swallow a few pills and rub cream all over his leg. He grabs my wrist, examining the burns on my hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How the fuck did you do this?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I launch into the full story, pausing for his gasps and grunts of acknowledgment. He takes my hand, putting burn cream on it before is pressing it against his lips. I cock my head in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's just a thing my mom would do. It's supposed to make it heal faster." I'm struck by how </span>
  <em>
    <span>soft </span>
  </em>
  <span>Clay is. In different circumstances, he'd be one of the most innocent people I'd have met. I tuck a strand of his dirty blonde hair behind his ear and kiss him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sleep. We're going to the cornucopia tomorrow."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why?" I lean in, making sure the cameras can't pick up what I'm saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lighting a match to burn the arena down, blowing the walls up. Potato, potahto." He freezes, looking up at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really? The mines?" I nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"All you need to start a fire is a single match. The tinder is dry. Fire is catching." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> We press against each other, and Clay drifts off. I watch the anthem, seeing the faces of the two children I killed. I let my eyes flutter shut. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It's all going to be catching fire. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I hear a soft hum, almost like Terra's voice. It's reminiscent of a song I remember hearing as a kid, some old lullaby. The phoenix is about to be rebirthed from the ashes. If we burn, the capital burns with us. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>first of all, thank u guys SO MUCH for ur support... yall made me cry!!! i am simply a 15 year old minecraft fan trying to write things ppl like, and im glad yall seem to like this!!! im 3 days clean :) u guys helped me reach that :)))))))))) n e ways, here's another chapter &lt;3 we're nearing the end folks, maybe 2 more chapters... i hope i resolve the end, but with the ending i have in mind, yall might still have questions T-T</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Finale</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> We wake up bright and early. Clay serves himself a small portion of our remaining food, and I push him to eat the rest of his half. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're going </span>
  <em>
    <span>today.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" He nods and scarfs down the food. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> After breakfast, I take a look at his gash. It looks a lot better, there's no more swelling or pus, and it's healing well. I rewrap it, and he pulls me in to press a kiss against my lips. The burns on my hand have disappeared overnight, and I feel another pang of anger at the capital. They have the resources to keep everyone alive in all of the districts. They choose not to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Faintly, I hear the beeping of a parachute. We've got a sponsor. I race to the window, just in time to catch the small parcel. It stops beeping, clicks, and springs open, revealing a box of matches and a note. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Choose to set fire. - Techno. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I look at the nearest camera and nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks, Techno. I will." Clay cocks his head at me, and I tear the paper into tiny pieces before lighting it up with a match. I reach out, grasping Dream's hand. He meets my eyes, curious before he softens in trust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The walk to the center is as terrible as it was yesterday, but with Clay humming and running his thumb up and down my hand, it feels quicker. We reach the cornucopia in record time, and Dream stiffens. The boy who killed his sister is there, standing in front of it. I let go of his hand, so he can draw his sword and advance on the other boy. We both have things to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The clashing of swords plays behind me while I start working on unearthing the mines. The mines are shallow, so I get the first one without much incident. It's about the size of my palm but powerful enough to blow a person to smithereens. I turn to gauge the intensity of the fight, watching Clay strike the other boy with the butt of his sword. He stumbles back, and Clay darts forward, jamming the blade into his stomach before wrenching it back out. The boy's guts spill out, and he tries to grasp them in his hands. The canon doesn't fire, and the boy collapses to the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're leaving him?" I ask, as Clay turns and heads towards me. He nods once, his eyes fierce and cold. They soften when they meet mine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"For Terra." I hum in acknowledgment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's go, then." I grab his hand, holding the bomb in the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Where are we going?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"To the top of the mountain. It'll help us get another vantage point."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I walk into the cornucopia, looking for a bow and arrow. I find one, and grab a quiver, and get a coil of wire and all the materials for a makeshift detonator. We have one shot at this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> By nightfall, we've reached the tallest peak. It's flat at the top, just wide enough for Clay and I to stand next to each other. I can see the dome flicker as the anthem plays. Terra's killer flashes on the screen, and Clay tenses up. I rub his shoulder. Soon, we'll be dead or out of here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I start rigging my trap. The wire ties the small bomb to the arrow, and I rig a detonator that will set the bomb off at the press of a button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can you shoot?" I ask Clay. He nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're doing this?" His voice is nearly a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"For Terra."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"For Terra." He agrees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I hand him the bow and arrow, and he draws it back to his nose. He inhales. I grasp at the button. I think of Sapnap, crying and thrashing at the reaping. Terra, her mouth wide in shock, the spear's piercing through her chest. The countless children Clay and I had to slaughter. I look over at him. He looks determined. I see, in his sour green eyes, all of the reasons I fell in love. His tentative smiles, his lingering touches, the way he says my name. He breathes in and lets the arrow loose. I click the button, and the arena explodes into light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I grab his hand and start rushing back down the mountain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Holy shit." Clay is looking up at the shattered ceiling. The sky spills through the crumbling dome. Jshclatt's voice crackles over the speakers.                                                    </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tributes, we've encountered a... malfunction. Stay where you are, and the peacekeepers will pick you up in a matter of minutes." I hear the loosely veiled threat. We only have a matter of moments before they're on us.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> By the time we reach the floor, the Peacekeepers are rushing into the dome. We dodge through the ruins, ducking and hurling things back at our pursuers. They open fire, and we hide behind a building to avoid the spray of bullets. Clay is panting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Then, from the opposite side, there's another smattering of gunfire. The Peacekeepers scream and duck into buildings as they're gunned down. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck? </span>
  </em>
  <span>The door to our shelter is wrenched open, and a clocked man grabs my shoulder. He wears a familiar war coat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> We get pushed into an armored car, which drives off over the rocky terrain. Our cloaked savior says nothing, and we sit in silence for a handful of minutes. Clay and I hold hands, and I lean over to kiss him. We </span>
  <em>
    <span>made it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> The car drives for about an hour, traveling through the forest that surrounds Manburg and the capital. A section of the forest floor lowers, revealing a secret tunnel. We drive in and park in a makeshift garage of armored vehicles. Standing by the cars are- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tubbo and Tommy? </span>
  </em>
  <span>They flash us gigantic grins, and from a door behind them exits Bad, Techno, and Nikki. Holy shit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Skeppy pulls the door open, tugging us out and appraising us. When he deems us checked over, we get embraced by the group. Techno ruffles my hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"</span>
  </em>
  <span>I knew you could do it, George." Tears fill my eyes. It all happened so fast. The cloaked stranger takes off the disguise, and Wilbur stands in front of us. He flashes us a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Clay, George," He addresses us.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Welcome to Pogtopia."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>---</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> In the Capital center, Jschlatt sits at his desk. He kicks his feet up onto it and motions for the guards to let in his guests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Quackity! Welcome. Did you bring in our guest?" Quackity grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I did, President Schlatt." Jschlatt flashes a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Welcome to the capital of Manburg... </span>
  <em>
    <span>Terra</span>
  </em>
  <span>."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>LAST CHAPTER!!!!!!!! yeah this ending is definetly a cliff hanger skshfhfsfhshfsiuhsuhfshsfhhf sequel?? maybe???? if yall want it??????? anyways rate and review and comment and i love u guys &lt;3 DONT BE MAD IM SORRY</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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